


The Senseless Tragedy

by linatrinch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel's in Heat, Angst, M/M, Pre-Fall, Soulmates, This was supposed to be PWP, Trueform Angels, a whole lot of pain, and post-fall, guess who dies at the end!!??!?!??!, just everything pretty much, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5029939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linatrinch/pseuds/linatrinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Balthazar's existence, from Heaven to Earth.</p><p>Okay, this was meant to be PWP. I don't know what happened. Prepare to feel things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Senseless Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really into this genre too much, but I read a bit of something somewhere before of Balthazar being in heat with no hope of outside help and it was, as usual, unfinished. I wanted to elaborate on the idea with a little Balcifer, of course.

For a long time, Balthazar felt cheated and broken. What kind of angel didn't have a soulmate? For thousands of years, he watched as everyone around him, one by one, paired off with their mates, finding fulfillment and happiness and salvation and- and _everything_. Everything that was good. Everything that came with being alive. They paired off as he watched.

It eventually became clear that the only other angel who seemed to have the same problem as him was Castiel. They quickly became good friends, though it was quite evident that they were not each other's mate. Yet, he still felt better when he was around Cas. The other angel hardly seemed to care about the romantics of it all. He wasn't here for love and happiness but on Father's orders, to be a perfect little soldier. Often times, Balthazar wondered if he only pretended to be that way in order to make himself feel better. Eventually, he mimicked the behavior, testing to see if it would work. It didn't take away the pain, but it dulled it some, pushing it to the back of his mind where it could fester and torture him in quiet. Not like anything could be done for it.

For millennia, he was stuck this way, beginning to believe that if God didn't simply forget his soulmate, then he must have not been destined for such beauty. Perhaps he had done wrong or was supposed to do wrong in the future, and this was his punishment. Loneliness. For millennia, he acted like he didn't care.

Until he found him.

It was... an impossibility. Something he had never dreamed of before- never let himself  _dare_ to dream.

Heaven held a vast and firm chain of command that was never broken. When God issued orders to the lowest of angels, that one got it from their superior, never their Father. So when the Archangels come to the younger ones with news of God's word,  _everyone listened_ . Often times, it was Gabriel. He was the Messenger, after all. Balthazar had seen Raphael a few times and caught a glimpse of Michael once. This was the first time he had seen the Morning Star.

Anyone who had previously seen him spoke wonders of his beauty, but now, with Lucifer merely a few feet in front of him, he could clearly see that no Enochian word could compare to his magnificence. His wings were so large, so  _bright_ , and looked to be so soft to the touch, Balthazar couldn't take his eyes off of them. His form was like nothing he had ever seen before... Everyone saw Gabriel's brilliant gold and marveled, even thought nothing could tarnish Michael's glow. But Lucifer was white. A brilliant, marvelous, untouchable white, as if he were the personification of light itself. He was so beautiful to behold. Too beautiful. And that gentle  _tug_ on Balthazar's grace hardly went unnoticed. “Cas...”

“I know,” his friend breathed quietly beside him, staring at their elder brother. There were many angels around, all of them just staring up at Lucifer as he walked among the masses. Whatever purpose or reason he had come to them was completely forgotten to Balthazar. That tug was all he knew.

Castiel seemed to smile next to him. “He's beautiful. I've never seen him before. Have you-” His words drifted away with one look to his brother. It took a moment, trying to understand that this was real, then Cas looked back to the Archangel who had never so much as looked to them, never paid them any mind. And Lucifer wouldn't know unless his gaze looked on his soulmate. He hadn't seen him.

When he looked back to Balthazar, the other angel was shaking. With relief or fear, neither of them knew which, but Cas was to first to speak. “You must go to him.”

How? Lucifer was an Archangel and so amazingly beautiful. Balthazar couldn't compare to something like that. He was undeserving. So  _massively_ undeserving of Lucifer's attention, much less his love. “I- I can't-”

“You must,” his friend persisted with a firmness that Balthazar hadn't heard from him before, “For both of us, you must. Go.”

For both of them. So that at least one of them would have a chance. Castiel was right. He had to, there was no choice in the matter. He could only hope that Lucifer wouldn't be  _too_ disappointed with him. Too disgusted. The Archangel could destroy him without ever becoming violent. Just a glare, a snarl. 'Stay away from me,' he would say. 'I never want to see you again. A thing like you could never be my mate.' It would kill him.

“Go!” Cas insisted again, pushing against his friend who only just realized that he had yet to move. Right. He had to. He had to.

It was his only shot. He had to.

So Balthazar took flight and followed his brother, going as fast as he could in an attempt to get it over with it that much quicker. Though Lucifer had left the crowds and was out of sight, it didn't take any cunning at all to follow. That tug on his grace was all the compass he would need, for now and into eternity. Before he knew it, he had followed Lucifer to one of the many gardens that Joshua often tended to. This was a place that Balthazar had never been to before, but the beauty of the nature reflected from their Father's wonderful planet did little to distract him from the other being.

Lucifer, ever the strong, ever the observant, turned immediately when someone new entered the garden, eyes landing on the younger angel and staring.

For Balthazar, it was a struggle to stay still and just keep his eyes on the Archangel instead of dropping to his knees with apologies, begging for forgiveness of who and what he was, begging for Lucifer to not judge him or hate him for not being good enough, begging to please just give him a chance just one chance please. But how utterly pathetic would that display be? Besides, no amount of groveling would change any Archangel's mind, so he let Lucifer's eyes rove over him, watching him, deciding for himself if Balthazar was worth any amount of his time.

At length, at a  _terribly long_ length, the Morning Star slowly approached him. Now Balthazar couldn't take his eyes off of him even if he wanted to. No matter what happened now, at least he would always remember being this close to Lucifer. That had to count for something considering his beauty was unparallelled to anything Balthazar had seen before.

His thoughts screeched to a halt when Lucifer's hand glided over his jaw, cradling his cheek. For a moment, another horrendously long moment in which Balthazar went over every horrible scenario again, the Morning Star's eyes softened. “What do they call you, brother?”

He spoke to him. He was speaking to him. He didn't know whether to feel relief or shock. “Balthazar,” he responded in a breath, just trying to get the answer out before he made himself look ridiculous.

But Lucifer smiled to him, murmured his name as if he were testing it over his tongue, and leaned forward to kiss Balthazar lightly on the forehead. All worries and apprehensions washed away, as it should have from the start. This was his soulmate. There was no point in fearing him. Lucifer would never hurt him. He would protect him, love him, care for him. The younger angel's eyes fell closed from the touch, from the knowledge of never having to fear such atrocious things.

“I thought you didn't exist.”

The voice, that beautifully soft voice, had Balthazar opening his eyes again to gaze at his beloved. “I feared the same.”

With another smile, their lips met and the finality of the touch had Balthazar laughing into the kiss with his mate.

From there, time went on. Balthazar still saw Castiel often as his equal and his friend, but no one held his attention more than his lover. Especially when the heat overtook him, as it did with all paired off mates. There were moments, even in that, when his thoughts led back to his friend, almost feeling guilty for the happiness he had, but the thought was soon ushered away as if Lucifer knew what he was thinking and distracted him as quickly as possible. His distractions, of course, were always more than welcome. The kisses, the warmth, the love, he could ask for nothing else. For millions of years, he could see nothing in his future but Lucifer.

Then the humans came.

“It's not worth it,” Balthazar muttered to him in vain. He was right before. Nothing could change the mind of an Archangel.

Lucifer merely shook his head to his lover's words. “I just- I can't do it, Balthazar.” Of course he couldn't. It was doubtful that any of them could, but it was God's words. They had to try. “I love Him more than even you. I can never put  _them_ above that.”

“But it's an order-”

“I've listened to orders. I've _obeyed_ orders, more than I've ever told you of, more than I dare speak to you of. This-... I cannot do this.”

Balthazar studied him worriedly. In truth, he had never seen him like this before. Lucifer – or any of the angels for that matter – were never defiant. Though, his Morning Star was of a different breed than the rest of them. He had told the younger angel once that he was blessed with free will from their Father, meaning that he did not  _have_ to obey, but he  _chose_ to out of love and respect. This was the first time he... ever spoke this way. “You can't just tell Him, no,” Balthazar whispered again, knowing that what they were speaking of wasn't for anyone else's ears. “He's God.”

Finally, miraculously, Lucifer seemed to listen and, after a time, even nodded in agreement. “I'll need others to back me,” he said, much to his lover's dismay, “He may be able to ignore me, but even He can't ignore the masses. We'll go to Him together.”

At this, he looked up to Balthazar and instantly knew they were going nowhere together. The younger could see the realization on his lover's face, even as Balthazar tried to hold him tighter. “Luce... I can't... He's Father. I can't.” Lucifer went somber before his hand found the younger's face once more. “I'm sorry.”

“I know,” Lucifer sighed, “I understand. It's all right.” He leaned closer, his lips lightly brushing Balthazar's. “I love you.” Knuckles brushed against his face, and his Morning Star was gone, likely in too much anguish over being refused by his lover to stay.

The next time Balthazar saw him, the sky had parted like a fresh wound. Every angel in the host, likely every sentient being in the universe, watched on as a terrible silence washed across creation. With a white hot heat and piercing screeches of the two eldest, Lucifer fell like a comet through the spheres. Shock quickly gave way to pain as the bond – the bond that was meant to be etched into his grace forever – began to tighten like a chord and slowly vanish as if someone had ripped out a piece of him. Balthazar screamed, faintly knowing Castiel was beside him, holding him back from following his lover. Then another angel and another held him as he screamed and sobbed.

Lucifer's absence didn't truly hit home until his next heat. Their bond had been created, and his mate wasn't dead. Of course his heat would come, but this was different. With Lucifer, the heat, the strengthening of their bond, had been only pleasure and happiness. Now, with every fiber of his being craving and clawing for his mate, he felt nothing but pain. Just pain for _days_ , for much longer than his heat had ever lasted before, even the first time. It was only then when he finally let himself mourn.

It was on his next heat that he realized this wouldn't stop. Lucifer was alive within the cage, and every day without his lover drove his body to more and more suffering. The sadness had mostly passed, blaming himself had gotten old, so he plotted something he only ever considered in a manic induced rage.

He never blamed Father. Ever. He couldn't. But Father wasn't the one who swatted his lover away like a pest. No, it was the Red Right Hand.

The attempt on Michael's life went about as well as expected, not that Balthazar cared. Either he would kill their eldest brother, Balthazar himself would finally be able to die and rest, or they would throw him in the cage with Lucifer. There was nothing to lose. But Michael, angry and hurt from losing his brother, took a twisted sort of pity with Balthazar.

The torture- what Michael called _re-education_ worked somewhat, though. Even if the only thing that stopped it was Castiel and a small group of other angels who greatly disagreed with his punishment. The goal, what Balthazar assumed had been the goal, was to break his love of Lucifer and put his trust and loyalty towards... _holier_ things. That bit didn't work, but the hate he had for Michael and the strange abandonment he felt towards the Father had both lessened, as well as his constant obsession and devotion to his lover. Lucifer was not there. Lucifer was never coming back. That much was made clear by the rawness in Balthazar's throat from screaming to him for help.

Once free again, he quickly grew closer to Castiel, his savior and the only constant that had ever been in his life. His brother even offered and attempted to help him through the heat, but without his mate, it only served to dull the stab somewhat.

It wasn't too long after that a horrible rumor spread through the host, only to be officially announced by Gabriel weeks later. Lucifer would rise again. He would rise to die. There was a lot of fine print with the statement. The humans and their paradise and the Apocalypse and the vessels, everything drowned out by the news that Lucifer would be executed. The only one who seemed to share his own despair was Gabriel, given the look of pain and horror coursing through his being. Not a day later, word spread that Gabriel had abandoned.

It must have been nice. To just... leave. To just walk away from the Hell they had created for themselves. But sickening disapproval gave way to temptation as the centuries passed, the heat only serving to get worse and worse. He poured what he could into being a perfect soldier like his dear friend, fighting alongside him as if it was truly the only thing he had been created for.

Sometime after the vessels were born, Castiel was ordered on a mission to Hell. Balthazar didn't even ask to go along, didn't even bother to wonder why he hadn't been included with the small garrison. Everyone knew.

“Are you-” The words fell over themselves. “Are you going as far as the Cage?”

“No,” Castiel answered without a hint of emotion, knowing better than that. “Close, but not that far.”

Balthazar nodded and let the subject go. It didn't matter. If Castiel were going straight to the Cage, what would Balthazar even ask of him? To relay a message? What message? What could he dare say to his lover who had more than likely forgotten him or, worse, hated him? It didn't matter.

The shock went through everyone when Castiel's voice sang out clear as a bell, “Dean Winchester Is Saved.”

Balthazar saw it before anyone else. How Cas went to the Winchesters when his presence wasn't commanded. How he spoke of the Michael Sword like he wasn't a tool, a means to an end. How his eyes danced when thinking of Dean Winchester. Castiel had found his soulmate in a human.

At first, Balthazar wanted to give his sympathies in some way. Dean was destined to be Michael's vessel. His life was to end soon in order to usher in the Apocalypse. Yet, when the thought was on the tip of his tongue, he knew that wouldn't be the case. Cas had never been a fool and even now wasn't in despair. Whether he knew it or not, Castiel was a deserter just as much as Gabriel had been.

He waited just long enough for his suspicions to be proven true. For Castiel to choose Dean over his orders, over the entire host of Heaven, to finally and truly love a human more than Him. When that happened, there was nothing left for Balthazar in Heaven, so he gave into the itch and left.

No one mourned his staged death except for his life long friend. It wasn't a surprise, just a sadness that anyone mourned him at all. Especially since he didn't abandon for any true purpose. Gabriel obviously left because of the fighting between his eldest brothers. Castiel left for love. Balthazar left only for himself. Maybe not peace or closure, but to just... be away. Be someone else. Be without pain for a mere moment.

So he mingled among the humans, allowing himself to enjoy their company and every sin they had conjured up over their short life span. All the while, through the dancing and drinking, drugs and orgies, a tiny thought rested in the back of his mind that he never brought to the surface under any circumstance.

Until it happened. Until they opened the Cage.

Of course he felt it – _everything_ felt it – but Balthazar knew he was having a different reaction. If breath were in his lungs, the force of Lucifer slamming back into his realm would have knocked him senseless. As it were, he stood still in the dead of night surrounded by nothing but nature. When he felt it coming, he knew he had to be alone. So alone he stood in complete shock. The bond – their bond that had given such joy and happiness eons ago – was suddenly rebuilt like the day it was forged, as if it had never been gone. He could _feel_ Lucifer, feel him from miles away, darker, quieter, different but still his Morning Star to the core.

It took nearly an hour before he moved at all and realized what he had been doing. He was waiting. Waiting for Lucifer to come back to him. His vessel swallowed nervously, telling himself that Lucifer needed a vessel to walk the Earth, he needed to prepare for the battle, get situated, collect his armies. He was busy. It had only been an hour.

In three days time, Balthazar could no longer deny it. Lucifer wasn't coming to him. Every horrid reason floated throughout his mind's eye, but the angel only frowned. He had no right to be surprised. No reason mattered. Lucifer wasn't coming. It felt like losing him all over again.

Balthazar ignored him. He tried his best and hardest to ignore him, even if every angel at every second was screaming something about Lucifer with every step he took. With drugs and alcohol and sex, it was a bit easier until the heat came back again.

When his heat had taken him on Earth before, he simply indulged more, maybe fucked a little harder, maybe screamed a little louder. This time was assuredly different. Lucifer was there. His mate was _right there_ and refused to go to him. Balthazar, an angel on the much lower rungs, wasn't about to approach Satan just in case his ex-lover wouldn't mind seeing him killed. And why wouldn't he? What had Balthazar done for him while Lucifer suffered in the Cage?

He suffered his heat alone as he hadn't done since before the torture. It was much worse. Far worse than he dreamed it could be. In the midst of it, a wild idea came to him. To actually just swallow his fears and go to Lucifer. Let the Archangel kill him. If he could see him again in one last flash before his death, it would be worth it.

But he didn't go, of course. After Michael's torture, self-preservation seemed to be coded into him once again. Instead, Balthazar merely suffered in a small, dark, cold, isolated motel room. It was all he could find on such short notice when it quickly became apparent that this heat was too much for him to handle. The clothes of his vessel were thrown off, a sheen of sweat going across every inch of him. The bed was made into a nest of pillows and blankets, but he hadn't stayed there long. Balthazar rested against on the floor against the wall, far cooler against his skin than the fabrics, huddling his body up into a ball. The heat was one thing; the pain, quite another.

It had started in the pit of his stomach – his core – as it always did, like a knife digging in and twisting just to see a reaction. Now his entire body screamed. The feelings ranged from his chest cavity caving in, his spine ripping out of his back, his head throbbing so loud that he couldn't think about anything except for the need to be with his mate. Every muscle ached and throbbed and begged. He wept, body shaking, knowing that the display of sorrow would just make everything worse, and this had only just begun. But he couldn't help the crying. He wasn't just in mourning anymore like the first time without his Lucifer. He was swept aside and left to suffer as he well and truly deserved.

He cried harder with the knowledge that his lover had abandoned him. The pain from his heat couldn't compare to such a dejected feeling.

Then the world shifted around him, and he knew exactly why. The air itself felt like ice, as his eyes slowly opened and trailed up the new body in the room.

Lucifer stood there, looking down on him as if in shock. Neither moved aside from Balthazar's shaking, his deep, uneven breaths the only sound. Every part of him wanted to rush his mate. Hold him, touch him, anything, but Balthazar stayed there, unsure of what kind of person stood before him now, even if his beauty had never dimmed in Hell.

His former lover's head tilted, brow furrowing a bit. “What have you done?” His voice was nothing more of a breath striking through the cold air.

For a long moment, Balthazar just focused on the sound of it, new tears coming to his eyes from hearing his Morning Star's voice again, before the question finally registered with him. “... What?” He had done nothing. That was the problem.

Lucifer looked his vessel up and down, a shining hint of worry in his eyes. “Where's your mate?” Balthazar shook harder from the question, nails digging into his flesh, as his lover spoke again without even an answer. “Why didn't you find another?”

With their bond gone, Balthazar could have. He could have bonded with Castiel or any other angel, any other being, but he hadn't. He _knew_ he could have, but he hadn't. “You're my mate.” It was more than a tug on his grace, more than a bond. He loved his Lucifer with everything he was, even if the heat drove him mad. Nothing could replace that, even with torture.

After a long, drawn out moment, reminding the younger angel of something millions of years ago, Lucifer knelt in front of him. Balthazar, fearing everything about the close proximity even if his body was screaming for it, jerked away and into the wall, sending a new wave of pain through him. It was just enough to distract him until he felt his lover's knuckles ghost lightly across his face as he had done the last time they had seen each other.

“You've suffered like this?” Lucifer asked in that quiet voice, though the other couldn't respond. Emotions soared through him from the touch. Panic, pain, pleasure- He screwed his eyes shut to keep from balling in front of the Archangel even if it meant to not see him, but it did nothing to stop the sob and tears escaping him.

The knuckles were replaced by a firm hand, forcing his eyes open again. “I heard you scream,” the breath against his skin sent a whole new level of want through him, “When I fell, I heard only you.”

“Luce...” It was too much. Being this close to him once again. That- That look. His hand clawed it's way up his sleeve, gripping at the bicep. “I- I've missed-... Please. I'm so sorry.”

He was hushed with such a soft whisper that Balthazar was unsure if it was ever uttered. On that note, he was unsure if Lucifer was here at all. “Shush, my love,” the Morning Star whispered and all thoughts of this not being real fled as he began to kiss the tears. Balthazar's hand, the one not gripping hard around his own torso, jumped to hold the back of his lover's neck. “I'm here now.” He faintly felt lips against his own, but the sobs were so hard that he couldn't hope to return the kiss. Lucifer's arms were cradling him, wrapped around his ribs and shoulders to hold him close. There were lips against his neck, a moan escaping him, all of the want that he hadn't felt from all of the heats before surging back to him through the touch.

“I love you.” He heard the words first. “I love you.” The second was meant to be a response, but the voices were the same and he realized he was just babbling without even knowing it. “I love you.” Lucifer said something, but Balthazar could only register the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands, the taste of his lips when pressed against his again. “I love you.”

The rest was just ecstasy. Whether Lucifer was fucking into him without regard or just stroking his hair, Balthazar couldn't even tell anymore. It was just... _feeling_. Touching. Being near him again. Being with him. The heat absorbed him, swallowed him so sweetly that he couldn't even think.

When he did finally come to with enough sense to at least speak coherently, he found himself back on the bed, resting against Lucifer's bare shoulder as the Archangel weaved circles through his hair. He moved, but his lover's touches suddenly stopped and shifted- the whole body shifted until he was on his side, too, facing him completely.

And now-... Now they were together again. Like nothing had changed... Balthazar stared at his Morning Star in awe and disbelief. There was too much to say that he didn't know where to start. “That's not your true vessel.” What an awful way to start the conversation.

Lucifer seemed nothing but amused by it, though, probably coupled with the look on his angel's face. “I'm working on that.” He smiled. It was small, shallow, but a smile nonetheless.

Balthazar found he couldn't help but return it, but his lips immediately faltered. “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Lucifer. I should have done more. I should have gone and-”

The cold hand against his face stopped his words. “I know,” Lucifer whispered back, “I can feel it, Balthazar. I know. I know and it's okay.” There must have been confusion on the young angel's face, because his lover smiled wider. “You still love me. You're still loyal to us. I could never ask anything of you, especially this, so it's a gift I hardly deserve but eagerly accept.”

The confusion didn't leave. Balthazar left his lover to rot in Hell. Which one of them wasn't deserving? He half expected Lucifer to kill him if they crossed paths again. “How?”

The Archangel seemed to understand the question. “I left you... It wasn't my fault, but you told me to let it go and I didn't. I left you alone, left you to hurt like this, unprotected. It's not right. You deserve far better.”

Balthazar let the words roll around in his mind for a moment, trying to decipher every piece of them. It was... so different from what he had told himself for so long. But it couldn't be anything but true if it was coming from his mate. Slowly, he shifted forward, burying his head into Lucifer's neck. “I still did nothing.”

“You wanted to,” his beautiful voice wafted through him, arms circling around to hold him, “That's what matters to me right now.” For a long time, they stayed that way, Balthazar wondering if he would start crying again, just breathing in his lover's scent, while the other ran his fingers over his back, making small circles against the skin. Eventually, as if he had only been waiting for the right moment to ask this whole time, Lucifer breathed, “Who scarred you?”

It took another long moment to realize exactly what he was asking, before it occurred to him that Lucifer meant the scars on his grace. “It was my own fault.” His lover shifted to look at him, but Balthazar didn't dare look back. “I deserved it.”

“That's not what I asked.” His tone still held all the softness and love, but there was something threatening beneath it. “Who hurt you?”

He didn't want to tell him this. If there was any hope of convincing Lucifer to not fight his brother, the revelation of what had transpired millions of years ago in Heaven would only go against him.

“Balthazar.”

The younger one glanced to the Archangel's eyes and couldn't stop himself. “I tried to kill Michael.” The shock on Lucifer's face drained away the intensity. “After-... After-... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know you've always cared for him so much, I know. I was-... I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking. I was wrong.”

“He did this to you?”

The silence was far more telling than any words Balthazar could muster in anyone's defense. “... Luce...”

“He'll never hurt you again.” The firm, gentle hand cupped his face again. “No one will ever hurt you again.”

“You can't fight him.”

“I will.” Just like that, any thought of convincing Lucifer otherwise was banished. He couldn't stop the fight. He never could. “And when I win, you'll want for nothing.”

When he wins. When he destroys the humans, the creatures their Father seemingly loves most. No. No, he could have no part in this. But even as his mouth opened, Lucifer shushed him again. “I know,” he breathed, shifting closer, “I know. It's all right... I had hoped you would join me, but it'll be all right. Just stay out of it, okay?” Just stay out of it. Just do nothing. “I love you.”

Over the next several months, meeting with Lucifer had become a strange routine. One mixed with excitement and trepidation. It was after Gabriel's death that his Lucifer truly didn't seem the same. He was more closed off, more isolated from him, and there was no consolation that Balthazar could give. He had loved Gabriel, too, and truly Lucifer didn't have to kill him. He just did.

But his love for his Morning Star didn't falter, even if he grew more and more terrified as time went on. When he came to him in Sam Winchester's body, the fear finally took hold.

“You don't have to do this. You have your vessel now. We could just leave.”

“I can't leave things as they are.”

“And I can't let you do thi-!”

When he woke in the same motel room Lucifer had found him in the first time they met on Earth, it was over. His Morning Star must have known that he wouldn't allow any of this to go on, so he kept him unconscious through the worst of it.

The first thing he knew was the bond having vanished again. His vessel began to shake as the voices from his brothers and sisters began mingling through his mind. Lucifer and Michael were in the Cage. Lucifer was alive. He was alive. Alive. Alive. But still gone all the same. It was repeating. It was happening all over again, and Balthazar screamed.

Weeks- months passed, and the only solace he found was that his Morning Star still lived. The execution had failed. Locked away, yes, but alive.

If Lucifer ever became free again, he would join him. To Hell with the absent Father. To Hell with all of them. He couldn't go through that again. Then, just as the idea truly became conviction, someone started trying. Raphael wanted to bring the Apocalypse back, wanted the fight to go on. It was almost perfect, except for a massive flaw. Raphael was so far up Michael's ass, he might as well wear his eldest brother like a glove. If Raphael got what he wanted, there was no way that Lucifer would be given any chance at winning, much less surviving.

Balthazar went to Heaven just long enough to steal all of their toys from under their noses, dividing it all up among humanity, collecting souls and plotting schemes-

Then Castiel found him.

“Yes.” The blade, somehow, hurt the most. “I'll always have you.” Between the centuries of torture, the millienia of the heat, the abandonment of Father, the fall of his only love- The blade hurt the most.

“ _Cas.”_

His thoughts stayed in the moment for a mere second, before swiftly going back to a time when there was no pain. When he- When  _no one_ knew suffering. A firm, gentle hand cupped his face.

And he never felt pain again.

Only when Lucifer rose from the cage once again, would he find that his love had, at some point, ceased to exist.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was. Supposed. To be. Smut.
> 
> Just like 500-700 words of heat kink related smut. That's it. That's all I wanted.
> 
> What the fuck is wrong with me?
> 
> LIKE DIS IF YOU CRY EVRY TIM


End file.
